


Aggressive Negotiations

by Lightpoint



Series: Keeping Up Appearences [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Angst and Feels, Biting, Dom/sub, Dream Sex, Emotional Roller Coaster, F/M, Force Sex (Star Wars), Game of Thrones IN SPACE, Hair-pulling, Het and Slash, I REGRET NOTHING, I think we've pretty much established that you can do anything with the Force, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Jealousy, Lots of Naboo Headcanons, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Obvious Metaphor is Obvious, Polyamory Negotiations, Possessive Anakin, Remember Sidious' endgame, Threesome - F/M/M, Ulterior Sithly Motives, Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism, and nobody is dead, no one to blame for this but me, this is that but with the Force, you've all seen the movie 'Ghost' right?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-08-18 19:42:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8173660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lightpoint/pseuds/Lightpoint
Summary: Anakin, back on the front lines, attempts to deal with the escalating war, and to sort out what happened between him, his wife, and one of his best non-Jedi friends during his leave.  Padmé, in a similar situation, is reminded why it is incredibly hard to keep secrets on Coruscant. Palpatine weighs his options, and considers his next move.Also, they need to talk. And sort out what, exactly, they want.Luckily, Anakin is very strong with the Force...





	1. Good Reception

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin has been away from Coruscant for some time, and the war has been hard on him. He's been fighting almost constantly since his leave ended. One night, alone (and lonely) in his bunk, he tries an alternative way to get some sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhm...So yeah this is a thing that is continuing to happen...*runs away*
> 
> ...Mind the tags, this goes from 0 to smut almost immediately.

Anakin lay back in his bunk, and begged the Force (or whatever might be listening) for dreamless sleep. He’d been out in the field for a month now, and it seemed that the Separatists were upping their game every day. The intensity, the technology, and worst of all, the _creativity_ of Count Dooku’s droid legions had hit the 501st hard and fast the second they’d come out of hyperspace over Tatooine. 

_Talk about a change._ One night he was tangled up warm and soft and safe with Padmé and – it still shocked him to think of it – Palpatine, and the next he was hurtling into the jaws of the enemy. 

_Nothing but death…_

He couldn’t even escape it in his dreams. They were filled to bursting with burning ships and dying men, with screams and blood so mixed with oil that in the dark, you couldn’t tell one from the other…And even on the nights of relative clarity and peace, there was no way that he could shut out the thousands of minds pressing in on all sides. Each clone – as he’d tried to explain to Padmé many times – had their own shining, unique soul, but they shared the same physical composition, the same twisting neural lattice in their brains. The result was a sort of echo, an amplification of their thoughts and feelings. Unconscious desires took similar shapes, especially in the rookies, the ‘shinies.’ 

Five thousand minds dreaming the same dream was like listening to thousands of beings singing the same song. In unison, and at the top of their lungs.

War was all that the new ones knew. Of course it followed them into their sleep. 

Anakin had never found it especially easy to focus on nothing. Thinking of nothing (or at all) was technically thinking of _something._

But tonight, there weren’t any Jedi around. Obi-Wan had borrowed Ashoka for a mission to Mandalore, and the smattering of low-level Knights and Padawans that usually wound up hitching a ride with the Outer Rim fleet had been shuttled off to assist Master Windu at an undisclosed location. He was free to put himself to sleep by other means. 

Anakin resisted for as long as he was able, but after an hour of lying tense and cold in the dark, he gave in, and reached for the little pot of oil he kept in the locker under his rack.

He turned off the overhead lights, shut his eyes, and spilled some of the oil into his hand, rolling it between his fingers until it warmed. He let his mind wander as his dry hand trailed along his neck, his jawline, and then across his lips. The soft touch pulled at one memory, fresh and still strange, and cast it into searing light. Anakin gasped and bit his lip hard, tasting blood as sudden, sharp heat sparked under his fingers. 

_Just like…_

His senses swam with the memory, of his hand kneading Padmé's thigh as she shuddered around the Chancellor’s cock, pressed so close to her that each thrust shook his bones. Her mind spilling over with raw pleasure, flowing into him until he wasn’t sure who, exactly, was being fucked. Of Palpatine claiming his mouth with increasingly rough teeth, and yanking his head back by the hair to expose his neck to the same treatment. Anakin bit down harder, a whine rising up from deep inside him as the dull tang of blood coated his tongue. He gripped the base of his rapidly thickening cock, coating it from root to tip with oil, and opened his mouth wide enough to admit two fingers, coating them with blood and spit.

Anakin hesitated, his body tight. He’d never done this before, but – 

He reached for that borrowed feeling of being _filled,_ of everything else except rough pressure falling away. 

_Yes…_

 

*

Darth Sidious’ eyes shot open. He was on his feet in an instant, his senses roaring to life as a powerful Force presence tugged insistently at the edge of his shields. The Sith was a nanosecond from calling his lightsaber to his hand when a low whisper drifted through the Force.

“Please…”

_What?_

He cast around the room, throwing his senses out as far as he dared – being on the same planet as the Jedi Temple naturally made him cautious – and found nothing but the dull, drifting dreams of hundreds of sleeping bureaucrats. He frowned, still suspicious. _A dream, then? Unlikely._ Sidious had learned to distinguish such things long ago.

However, if there was danger, he could not sense it. Sidious slid carefully back into bed, his nerves on high alert even as he reordered his shields, and sunk into a light meditative trance, an armored gateway into true sleep.

He was halfway there when it happened again, stronger this time, a dull burn on the edge of his awareness, resonating in his bones. Sidious snarled and summoned his rage, sweeping the Force for a target.

And yet…

It didn’t _feel_ malicious. The presence seemed content to bat lightly at his mind. It was almost… _skittish,_ as though it didn’t want to get too close, hovering on the edge of his awareness. Reaching for his dreams. 

It felt vaguely familiar. Sidious frowned, but lay back slowly and relaxed his mind, sending the presence quiet, mundane flashes of color and shape, with the occasional thread of words and emotion; the ordinary dreams of an ordinary human. Slowly, the presence stilled, watched the image-words with an almost reverent fascination. 

Finally, it settled against the spot that twined in with the physical side of Sidious’ existence. It liked that even more. The voice came again, clearer this time.

“Please. Will you…”

Sidious’s breath caught. 

_Anakin?_

He stopped himself from reaching into the Force just in time. Speaking aloud had been bad enough. Anakin heard him anyway, and the burning presence intensified, shifting from the edge of a dream into the very real press of skin on skin. 

Sidious kept his eyes closed, knowing that if he opened them, nothing would be there. He slipped deeper into the dream, carefully shrouding his presence in the mundane, and traced the flickering edges of Anakin’s form. The Jedi all but purred with satisfaction. He pressed closer, hands sweeping large and warm up Sidious’ wiry form.

The Sith hissed with surprise as Anakin dragged him up into a kiss and straddled his lap, his skin pressed hot and rough against him, somehow passing right through Sidious’s thick nightshirt. 

_Well, this is a dream,_ he thought, with distracted amusement. _And in dreams…_ He bit off a groan as Anakin slipped a hot, oiled hand around his length, whispering barely-intelligible words into his throat. 

“What was that?” he asked, marveling at his own composure as Anakin slicked him up. _To feel, but not see…Just to feel…_

Anakin stilled, and dipped his head, hiding his face. Sidious frowned, and looped an arm around his neck. Sculpted muscles dipped and trembled under his hands as Anakin shook silently against his shoulder.

_Is he -_

“Please – I need – “

“Anakin…what is it?”

He almost missed the response. 

_To forget._

Sidious was grateful that Anakin could not see him, that he was dealing with a dream-wisp, what he believed Chancellor Palpatine to be. The Jedi’s mind bled at the edges, the tears in his shields gaping wide, even as he scrambled to stitch them back together, to cage the well of pain and fear that he carried close to his heart, that he would never let go. _If he was here…in the flesh…_

If not for his decades of accumulated willpower…Anakin Skywalker’s Darkness called to him. It all but _begged_ him to fill the barely-acknowledged void in his soul. To swallow down his own Dark. 

Instinct had driven him right into the arms of his future Master. 

“Please…” Anakin whispered. His pulse fluttered against Sidious’ chest. Carefully, he reached between them and took Sidious in hand, lined him up against his entrance. “I’m ready.”

It was a dream, only a dream. Sidious still dug his nails deep into Anakin’s shoulders as the Jedi sank onto his cock. It was a dream, so the hot squeeze lacked the usual edge of blurred pain, and slid straight into molten pleasure. Anakin seemed to agree. Sidious sensed very little pain, only a mild, pleased shock of surprise, and rising curiosity.  
He gripped harder when Anakin rolled his hips, clenching around him, trying to pull him deeper. Raw need beat against his shields.

 _Not enough!_ A desperate wail, from one dark, hungry maw to another.

Sidious gave him the next best thing. 

 

*

 

Light years away, Anakin sagged back into his bunk and stroked himself through a shaking climax, his fingers pressed as deep inside him as he could manage. 

He passed out almost immediately. 

_Just a dream…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Anakin sleeps naked (duh). Padmé has an extensive collection of high-fashion nighties, all of which come with matching heels. Sidious wears nightshirts and sleep pants. _Very nice_ nightshirts and sleep pants.  
>  2\. To be continued... O_O


	2. Daylight Savings Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winter on Naboo is a time for introspection, for reconnecting with loved ones. Winter on Coruscant means short days, late nights, and entirely too much time to think. Padmé is not a fan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does this count as fluff? Maybe it's angsty fluff.

The days were getting shorter. Coruscant had seasons, even though the weather did not frequently correspond, thanks to the rigid weather control stations in orbit. But, just like almost every standard Human world, Coruscant’s circular orbit meant that some parts of the planet were further away from the sun than others for a few months out the year. Padmé was often amused by new surface residents remarking, on their first season change, that it was _incredible that we can’t control that._ Consciously or not, such beings considered it a relic of the time when Coruscant was more earth than metal, before everything got _civilized._

The locals – Padmé was reasonably sure that she counted as such, after years living in the Senate apartment complex – called it the Daylight Shift, and considered it a more reliable way to track and celebrate the passage of time than by pre-programmed weather patterns. 

Maybe it was primal instinct. Every culture that Padmé had ever encountered counted time by changes in the environment, especially the seasons. Even single-biome planets like Tatooine marked time in such a way, even if in that particular case it tended to be ‘hot,’ and ‘hotter.’ 

Winter was the Dark Time on Naboo, when the lush greens and jewel blues of the forest and oceans faded to white. The powerful waves were sealed under ice, that could be miles deep in some parts of the planet. Nearly everything came to a stand-still when the snows came. Most stayed indoors, to focus on other things besides working the land. Many historians argued that it was Winter, and not Water, that had given rise to Naboo’s rich academic traditions and complex cultural norms. Because when thousands of humans were trapped inside, they needed to stay distracted. 

Padmé had nothing but fond memories of her childhood Winters. It was a time to snuggle up close to friends and family, to strengthen relationships, to reconnect as everything slowed down. It was a time for reflection, to turn one’s attention inward. A time of personal renewal. But between the war, and Anakin and...it was the very last thing that Padmé wanted to do.

Winter, such as it was, had come to Coruscant.

Padmé hated it.

The war, of course, made everything much worse. The short days seemed to correspond with long casualty lists, and even longer lines of terrified beings in immigration, displaced from their destroyed planets, waiting their turn to be packed into cargo carriers and shuttled off to Bandomeer or some other ‘productive’ world, cheap labor for the war machine. 

_If we didn’t have to hide…_ Padmé left her desk, and headed to the panoramic window, glowing orange with a fiery sunset though it was only a few hours after lunch. Thanks to the shorter days, she’d leave for the office before sunup, and arrive home long after sundown, despite there not being any change to her schedule. It made her feel trapped, as if she was chasing daylight, only to find an empty space where her husband should be, and the icy voice inside whispering that she’d never see him again.

Padmé knew that she was hardly the only woman with a spouse away at war. She just couldn’t speak of it. She had to smile brightly in the Senate, pretend at quiet, ignorant sympathy when her colleagues were frantic with worry. 

The isolation had only gotten worse since she – they – 

_As if I didn’t have enough secrets already._

The morning after ‘her and Anakin’s night in the Chancellor’s apartment’ (as she was resolutely calling it in her mind) had been surprisingly relaxed. Apparently Palpatine woke up even earlier than she did, courtesy of a gradually escalating datapad alarm, and then a cool, automated voice reading out his schedule for the day. He’d sat up in bed, picked up the datapad on the bedside table, ordered breakfast, and started paging through the _Coruscant Daily News._ Padmé had unfolded by inches, stretching out in the massive bed, pleasantly sore. She slid up next to him, tugging up the covers against the slight draft, and peeked over his shoulder. Padmé laughed when she saw the timestamp.

“You really are the first to know…” 

“For maybe a half hour,” he said dryly. “This will be everywhere before long. And this…” Palpatine leaned closer, and pointed at the datafeed in the upper left corner. Padmé’s eyes widened. 

“The _Raxus Times?_ How did you – “

“Forewarned is forearmed,” said Palpatine. “It’s good to know what the other side is saying.” Padmé nodded. Given that almost all the information coming out of the Separatist worlds was pure propaganda, a mostly-neutral news dispatch from the capitol might allow some insight into the state of the opposition…If only from a ground-level perspective. 

Padmé had been trying to get her hands on a copy for months. 

“They’ve certainly been busy…” she said, leaning against him, absentmindedly resting her chin on his shoulder. _At least on the battlefield._ The headlines were rather similar to those in the _Coruscant Daily,_ though the report of a land skirmish on Malastare seemed a bit…skewed. There was also a weather forecast, an article about an ongoing bust of a smuggling ring, and pile of political op-eds with some truly amazing anti-Republic rhetoric. She reached forward and pulled up an essay without thinking. _Fascinating…_

“Fabiau’s piece on my alleged exploits with the head of Black Sun is especially riveting,” Palpatine deadpanned. “And good morning.” Padmé grinned, impulsively leaned in to kiss his cheek, the sheet slipping a bit.

“Good morning yourself,” she said, arousal stirring lazily as she realized that she was practically molded to his side…a fact which Palpatine was very definitely aware of, if the tense shifting of his lower half was anything to go by. He balanced the datapad on his lap and lifted his arm so that she could scoot closer, slipping the sheet lower in the process. She shivered as he traced absentminded patterns on the back of her neck.

“Busy day?” Padmé heard herself say.

“More or less…Bit of a lull until noon. I have weekends too, you know,” he said at her incredulous laugh.

Anakin stirred when the food arrived, courtesy of a service droid. He woke slowly, in fits and starts, and patted the mattress next to him blindly.

“…Padmé?” 

She disentangled herself and shook Anakin’s shoulder. 

“Right here, Ani,” she murmured, stroking his hair. “Wake up…There’s food.”

“Where – “

“Good morning, Anakin.” 

Padmé’s stomach flipped as her husband sat bolt upright at Palpatine’s greeting, a dark flush spreading rapidly across his skin. His hair was thoroughly mussed, and the sheet bunched around his waist was doing very little to hide the erection straining against his stomach. 

“Ah…” 

Padmé could count the number of times Anakin had been struck speechless on one hand. 

Her smile grew as he surveyed the admittedly odd scene; Padmé propped up against the headboard, her hair a mess, holding the Chancellor’s blinking datapad while he poured himself a cup of caff, both of them watching Anakin carefully.

“I guess I wasn’t dreaming,” he said.

After a rather thick pause, Palpatine set his cup down and drew back to covers. 

“The ‘fresher is around the corner,” he said quietly, picking up a robe thrown over the back of a nearby chair. “I won’t be long.”

“Was it a good dream?” Padmé asked as soon as she heard the ‘fresher door shut. 

Anakin sat back heavily, avoiding her eyes.

“Anakin?”

“I’m…I’m just…processing.” He turned toward her, fidgeting with the sheet in his lap. 

“Ani,” she said quietly, taking his hand. “So am I.” 

Anakin gripped her hand hard enough to make her wince. Seeing her discomfort, he loosened his grip on her fingers and pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, his eyes boring into her. Her chest tightened as her thoughts swam hazily back to the previous evening, unwinding her memory like an old holo-film. Her eyes narrowed.

“Are you doing what I think you’re doing?”

The fog cleared. Anakin flinched and loosened his hold.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, leaning back. “It just…I sometimes forget that you…” His face twisted. 

“That I’m not a Jedi?” she asked quietly. 

She didn’t need to Force to feel his shame. 

“Padmé…” His arms tightened reflexively. She moved closer, sliding her hands up his chest until she could take hold of his hair. Anakin hissed as she used him as leverage to pull herself into his lap. 

“You need to ask me things,” she whispered. “Not go looking inside my head.” Padmé leaned forward, a low ache building in her core as she pinned his hot length between them. “You’re my _husband._ There are no secrets between us.” She reached down and took him in hand. Anakin bit his lip, shuddering as she circled the head with her thumb. They locked eyes.

She took him easily, shuddering as Anakin stretched her, layering a fresh ache over what Palpatine had left behind. 

“You feel…” Anakin gasped, his face buried in her hair. “I can feel…” Padmé gasped as he thrust sharply, a low growl rumbling in his chest. She caught him around the waist just as he surged up, flipped her onto her back, and crashed their hips together, groaning roughly as he bottomed out. Padmé locked her legs around his waist and held onto the headboard as he thrust deep, shaking the mattress and sending Palpatine’s mug tumbling to the floor. 

A hand flashed out and snatched it out of the air before it hit. Palpatine set the mug back on the table and nudged his datapad out of the way of the spilled caff. Padmé and Anakin froze.

“Don’t stop on my account,” he said, and climbed back into bed.

Anakin glanced between his wife and his friend. Palpatine leaned back against the headboard and shot him a questioning look. He tugged open the front of his robe and trailed a hand lazily down his chest. Padmé swallowed dryly, her thighs tensing around Anakin’s waist. 

Slowly, her husband grinned.

 

*

 

Two days later Anakin was called back to the fleet. It hit Padmé like a shot to the gut. He’d had to head back to the Jedi Temple immediately after they left (very carefully, and via the Chancellor’s private turbolift) and had been dragged into a full war council with Obi-Wan. Padmé hadn’t seen him since. They hadn’t _talked._

She was reasonably sure that an unexpected threesome with a mutual friend was something that required a talk. 

…With the mutual friend, too. Not that the communications breakdown was his fault. The war had escalated rapidly. Tension permeated the political sector of Galactic City. The mid-level Senate staff were being run into the ground (and practically replacing their blood with caffeine), Senators from all over were flooded with security threats, and everyone was working overtime to deal with the constantly shifting flood of information, trying to sort out the facts from rumor. Padmé spent her days in a whirl of meetings, hurried lunches, and twisting snarls of conversation that she longed to just slash apart so that she could get to the damn _truth._

Though a copy of the _Raxus Times_ seemed to find its way into her inbox every morning…

She didn't regret it. Padmé owned her actions, and accepted the consequences of her decisions. She was too old to get her head turned by _novelty._ It was...It was as though she had caught, and, for a time, _held,_ a piece of them both, something that she'd never seen in either of them by themselves. Something that _burned._ And Force help her she wanted it again.

 

*

 

Finally, Padmé did the only thing that she could think of to secure a half hour of uninterrupted time; she commed Sly Moore and scheduled a meeting with the Chancellor, as late in the day as she could manage. 

She would have preferred to have the conversation in a somewhat more private place, but Padmé was nothing if not adaptable. And so at 7 in the evening, three weeks after Anakin had gone, Padmé stood stolidly in front of the panoramic window outside Palpatine’s office, watching the last orange glow of sun fade away. 

Sly Moore cleared her throat and gestured to Padmé as Palpatine’s door hissed open. Senator Volel -- _Abregado-rae,_ Padmé thought -- and his logistics aide -- _Eva? Elle? --_ exited, their faces stiff with tension. 

_Last chance, Padmé,_ she thought. 

She arranged her face, smiled at Sly Moore, and headed in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1.Headcanon: Coruscant is Earth, a looooong way into the future. Or a looooong way in the past. 
> 
> 2\. Raxus Secundus is the Seperatist capitol.
> 
> 3.The ‘Daylight Shift’ is a total asspull, though the weather machines are canon. IMHO a planet where the weather was _always the same_ unless it was programmed otherwise would be quite unnerving. But it’s still a planet, planets have orbits, and Human-habitable planets with orbits have seasons. Coruscant’s seasons are just less obvious, though I imagine that April Fool’s Day would be pretty hilarious for the weather machine guys *runs away from the mountains of yellow snow*
> 
> 4\. **Me:** Ummm…There are 2 naked people in your bed.  
>  **Sidious:** …And your point is? The Galaxy doesn’t run itself, young lady. Now give me my newspaper! xD
> 
>  **EDIT 10/23/16:** I changed the bit at the end. Not much, just who came out of Palpatine's office. [And, yes, there is](http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/TheLawOfConservationOfDetail) a reason. [A couple, actually...](http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ChekhovsGunman)  
>  **EDIT 12/15/2016:** I drew something for the ['Anakin wakes up' part. ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8567806/chapters/20314603) It's PG-13, meaning no nudity (but it's obvious that nakedness is happening), but they *are* sitting in bed, sooooooo...


	3. Time Zones Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darth Sidious deals with the tense reality of running a war from both sides. Perhaps his visitor can help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long gap between updates - I got a bit of a brain fart about this. PREPARE FOR WORLDBUILDING AND CLONE WARS POLITICS.
> 
> ...I might have to sketch out a tactical map, like I did for The Road War in Counting Days. Let me know if this is REALLY confusing, because it'll be important later (kinda).

Senator Sans Volel’s smile did not reach his eyes. He leveled his sharp gaze at Sidious with almost physical intensity. The graying Human sat across from Sidious, straight and tall in his sharply tailored tunic and trousers, his unadorned cloak flowing elegantly from his shoulders to the floor; the picture of casual strength. But he couldn’t quite hide the narrowed eyes, the slight flare of his nostrils, and the sudden jerk of his fingers. 

Sidious smiled back. 

Volel’s head Logistician, Elpia L’Vos, covered her flinch with a quick swipe at her datapad. The young, dark-haired Human was seated at the Senator’s side – slightly off-center, out of Sidious’ direct line of sight as to not draw his attention away from her employer – and very clearly biting her tongue. 

_Probably about Volel’s phrasing,_ Sidious mused. The meeting had not gone well. The Senator had spent the last hour making a case for committing more resources to defend his homeworld, Abregado-rae. The system had already sustained multiple attacks; Volel believed that more were coming, thanks to Count Dooku’s efforts against Kuat and Corellia. 

The Separatists had been hammering the Hydian Way and Corellian Run for months. Kuat and Corellia had, thus far, successfully repulsed the attacks, but the Way and Run were not the only major supply lines between the Core and the Outer Rim. Volel was convinced that Count Dooku, having failed to disrupt the Republic’s supply chain, would soon turn his attention to the Rimma Trade Route. Which meant attacking its starting point; Abregado-rae. 

_He has a point,_ Sidious thought. Aside from being a critical part of the Outer Rim fleet’s supply chain, the Rimma Trade Route passed through Thyferra, the only planet in the galaxy capable of producing bacta. If the ‘Bacta Run’ was disrupted, the Republic would be cut off from its supply of the near-universal healing agent. Without the rapid healing that bacta provided, the wounded would be out of action for much longer than they were accustomed.

Clones would die from wounds that would be considered, with the help of bacta, ‘minor setbacks.’ They would be easier to kill. 

Unfortunately, Volel had not pulled such a scenario into his argument. He’d focused instead on Abregado-rae’s importance as one of the Republic’s primary shipping hubs, its critical role in the Army’s supply chain, and its manufacturing capabilities. All valid points, of course. But the same could be said about both Corellia and Kuat. It did not justify pulling ships from either system. Such a shift could have disastrous consequences.

 _Much too tempting a target…_ His current Apprentice was well aware of the ultimate goal of the war, but he could not be everywhere at once. Even leaders as hands-on as Darth Tyranus needed to delegate occasionally. And there were trigger-happy, glory-hungry junior officers in every army, even one with as many Neimoidans as Dooku’s. 

Sidious was not about to open a path to taking Kuat Drive Yards _or_ Abregado-rae. Dooku could keep General Grievous away from the Bacta Run – The Droid Army had no need of bacta, so it was not difficult to downplay its value to the ‘meatbags’ – as long as Abregado-rae and the other worlds along the Run were protected well enough to dissuade most attacks. And so Dooku and Grievous would continue to hammer Kuat and Corellia without avail.

It was almost funny, watching the Senator’s mind spin on the edge of panic, not knowing that Abregado-rae was almost completely safe. 

_Now, if he’d come out and said it…_ Chancellor Palpatine would have had no choice but to address the possibility of Dooku capturing the planet as the first step towards taking Thyferra. Darth Sidious, however, had a very different war to win. 

“I will relay the request to the Generals, Senator Volel,” he said, threading regret into his voice. “I will do everything I can to ensure that this issue receives all due consideration. Resource allocation is, as ever, under constant discussion. Senator – “ He held up his hand as Volel tried to speak. “I am most grateful that you brought this to my attention.”

“Your Excellency,” said Volel, getting abruptly to his feet. “Abregado-rae thanks you for your…time.”

“A pleasure as always, Sans,” Sidious replied, extending his hand. Volel squeezed his fingers in response, perhaps a tad harder than was appropriate. The Sith Master repressed a smirk at the anger smoldering in the Force. He nodded to L’Vos in turn. “Administrator.” 

“Good day, your Excellency,” she said evenly, dropping a quick curtsy. The Senator’s lips pressed into a thin line. He nodded curtly at Sidious, shot a _look_ at L’Vos, and swept out of the room. The woman followed quickly, her heels clicking on the marble floor, radiating embarrassment.

Sidious deactivated the hologram of the Abregado system floating over his desk and leaned back in his chair, his eyes drifting along the floor-to-ceiling transparisteel windows ringing the room. 

_Dusk,_ he thought. Only a thin, orange line of light remained of the day, and was rapidly being eclipsed by the gaudy flash of Coruscant’s nightlife. _Finally._ It had been a long day. Besides the developing situation with the Abregado system, Kuat and Corellia were going after each other again. Senators Lenoan and bel Iblis had never quite seen eye to eye, and with the Separatists clawing at their doors, the only thing they could agree on was that both of their systems were in jeopardy. 

_Perhaps Tyranus should lay off that area for a while…_ He had no intention of losing Corellia, even temporarily. And a successful attack on Kuat – or, more accurately, Kuat Drive Yards -- would cripple the Republic far too severely to make their eventual victory plausible…or at least drag the war out for longer than was necessary. 

Sidious, however, believed that the end was in sight. The Jedi were being thinned out, slowly but surely, whittled down from over ten-thousand to six thousand in less than two years.

 _Overconfidence, mostly…_ he thought, allowing himself a smirk. It had taken awhile for the Jedi to learn that charging blindly into battle was not always the best option. They hadn’t needed to think like soldiers for centuries.

Most of them didn’t want to. 

_It has to be_ terrible, _realizing that everything you believe is a lie._

 _There is no emotion, there is peace…_ Words learned by rote in the crèche turned cold comfort when your age-mates lay shredded at your feet. When you learned to use the clones as dejariik pieces. When the very beings you had sworn to protect cursed when you came knocking at the gates. When they asked, first in jest, and then for true, if there was any difference at all between the Jedi and, say, _those fiends on Dathomir._ Or the Sith. 

He wasn’t surprised that Anakin had come to him. The young Jedi had been born of the Force. He’d grown up _steeped_ in it, open and vulnerable, with only his instinctual shielding and the deep love of his mother protecting him from to seething currents of reality. _And a harsh corner of it, at that…_

Sidious’s fingers tightened on the arms of his chair. The Jedi began their training young for a reason. Inside the thick, shielded walls of the Temple, initiates were taught to manage their link to the Force. They were only exposed to the outside world a little at a time… _Eased_ into it.

Without that, well…The stronger the gift, the sharper the madness. _For the weak ones, anyway._

Anakin had had no such coddling. For one so strong in the Force, the mere act of _existing_ would have been difficult, even if he’d grown up in the lap of luxury, with that soul like a tight, exposed nerve…

Sidious’ datapad pinged – his last meeting of the day. 

_Enough of that,_ he thought. Anakin would be back. _And in the meantime…_

He leaned back and sent a thin tendril of awareness into the lobby. 

Her.

Padmé Amidala -- _or is it Skywalker? --_ was watching the night, tracing the neon skylanes with her eyes. There was a cool rhythm to her thoughts, a chiming focus that held her straight as conflicting emotions tugged at her composure.

Three weeks without a word from her husband. Three weeks of long, cold nights, of too-quiet rooms and an empty bed. Three weeks of escalating violence, of lurid holos from the front lines, of the Senate on the edge of panic. Three weeks since she’d pressed against his skin, close and warm under the covers, and read the _Raxus Times_ over his shoulder…

Confusion and desire, clarity and duty. 

Sidious smiled, despite herself. She was trying to reconcile all four, even now, on his threshold. 

Padmé Amidala-Skywalker was not a creature of chaos, though she had come into womanhood with it at her back. He thought back to her days as Queen, to the Battle of Naboo. She’d stared down a catastrophe and carved out a victory. Restored order to her little corner of the Republic.

He hadn’t expected her to do it at blaster point. Sidious often wished that he had a holo of Nute Gunray’s face when the girl-Queen ripped his prize (and whatever passed for his dignity) away from him. 

She’d become a woman of peace and words, who still understood the value of the sword. 

And by the feel of her mind, she had several objectives this evening.

Sidious pulled up the meeting subject line; Naboo Natural Resources/Utilization of the Riima Trade Route. 

_Well then._ Perhaps the previous hour had not been a total waste…He reactivated the holo of Abregado-rae, and zoomed out to view the entire galaxy. He traced a long, shining line between the Abregado system and Naboo.

_This should be interesting._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Yeah, again, please tell me if you think this needs a visual aide.  
> 2\. ...Because [that thing with Kuat and Abregado-rae? ](http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/TheLawOfConservationOfDetail) You should probably remember [it.](http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ChekhovsGunman) Not for THIS story, though, besides what you see in the next chapter…*covers mouth and runs away*  
> 3\. Senator Volel and the Logistics aide are OCs...I couldn't find out who Abregado-rae's Senator was during the Clone Wars, so I had to make one up. The Kuat, Corellia, and Alderaan (duh) Senators are all canon, though.  
> 4\. Ahhh I just finished [Cloak of Deception ](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Cloak_of_Deception) and all the stuff in there has a lot of parallels to this OMG. **This was NOT intentional...I just looked at a map of the galaxy and dreamed up ways to mess with it to achieve my fanfic goals.**


	4. Time Zones Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin discovers the potential -- and danger -- of his connection with Padmé and Palpatine. Sidious deploys Maximum Stealth Measures.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gets pretty...trippy... xD

The first thing Padmé noticed upon entering the Chancellor’s office was the holo of Naboo linked to Abregado-rae centered over his desk. Palpatine left it up as he beckoned her forward. 

“Your timing is impeccable, Senator Amidala,” he said, smiling a little as she sat across from him. “I just spoke with Sans Volel about this very subject.”

“Yes, I just saw him outside,” said Padmé. The hard knot of tension in her chest loosened somewhat. She hadn’t spoken with Palpatine since the…Incident…at least not in private. And if she was honest with herself, she’d been avoiding him.

There was a lot of truth in the adage about the power of sex to destroy relationships. _And that’s under normal circumstances,_ she thought. She was still experiencing the fallout from her relationship with Rush Clovis, and to her, the very worst part was the impact that it had had on her professional life. Every word, every conversation that _should_ have been focused on the work they shared was colored by their history. 

_At least on his end,_ she thought. _If Anakin and I didn’t have to hide…_ Padmé couldn’t even tell him that she was taken, that, no, she was _not_ playing hard to get. The thought of the same damn thing happening with Palpatine was not something that she wanted to face.

The memory of the morning in Palpatine’s bed was suddenly center stage. She considered, yet again, how easily they’d shifted from a tangle of limbs and heat to a relaxed, if pointed, review of current events, the state of the galaxy at large. Curling into him, sharing a datapad had felt eerily natural…As natural as getting swept away in Anakin’s desire moments later. 

Strange, how something could be both confusing and simple.

But for now, she had a job to do. 

“If you don’t mind my asking…How did it go?” Padmé settled her voluminous skirts around her chair and passed him a datacard from the hidden pocket in her bodice. “Senator Volel looked like he had a lot on his mind.” Palpatine smiled slightly, and inserted the card into the holo projector. 

“He does indeed,” he said. “Volel has an interesting hypothesis regarding Count Dooku’s intentions for his homeworld.” 

A frown creased her forehead as a red string of statistics flowed over the glowing image of Naboo. 

“How so?”

Palpatine fiddled with the holo controls, and zoomed out to a three-dimensional view of the entire galaxy. A few more adjustments pulled up a web of shining lines linking the Core to the Outer Rim, and dimmed the overhead office lights. He beckoned her closer and reached into the Galaxy.

Padmé stood, leaning forward without thinking. The Core gleamed bright underneath his hand. She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry as he traced a line from Abregado-rae to the Outer Rim. Cool lines of light played over his face, catching bright and sharp in his eyes. 

Her focus snapped to his elegant, precise fingers as they flickered from star to star. 

“Hmm…” Palpatine’s brow wrinkled as he turned the holo on its axis. “Not the right perspective…”

“Do you think the floor projector would be better?” Padmé asked. She had a feeling that she knew where he was going with this. A different perspective would certainly help. She repressed a smile when he nodded distractedly and adjusted the holo controls.

“Could you get the windows?” he asked, as the lights dimmed further. Padmé nodded and walked to the control panel on the far wall. An unexpected shock of nervousness danced across her skin as she lowered the blackout panels, shutting out the neon glow of the skylanes.

Palpatine hit a switch, and plunged the room into darkness. 

Padmé turned to face the center of the room, her heart in her mouth. It was like being blindfolded. With the windows covered, and the holo deactivated as Palpatine transferred the files, all light had been sealed away. She jumped a little, when she caught the faint whisper of cloth on carpet, somewhere in front of her. 

_Palpatine circling the desk,_ she reminded herself, stepping forward tentatively. The last thing she wanted to do was trip over her own feet.

More rustling, and then a sharp intake of breath that knocked the air out of her lungs. Padmé swallowed as a full-body shiver stopped her in her tracks.

Not fear, though.

Padmé’s fingers fisted in her skirts. 

He’d made the same noise when she – 

“There it is,” Palpatine muttered. Padmé almost _did_ fall, then, as the projector flared to life. She staggered back, blinking, as her vision flooded with warped light. 

“Oh – oh dear – “

Palpatine appeared in front of her. He caught her by the shoulders, faster than she’d have suspected he was capable of. Padmé breathed out, flushing a bit as the afterimages faded. 

“I’m sorry – “ they said, at the same time. 

Padmé laughed shakily.

“That’ll teach me to stand too close to a holo projector,” she said quietly. It seemed appropriate to whisper. The floor projector was much more powerful than the one on Palpatine’s desk. Countless points of light floated in the air, surrounding them completely. Padmé fought off a sudden wave of vertigo as the galaxy turned around them. She found herself reaching for Palpatine, twisting her hands in the front of his robes. 

His grip on her shoulders tightened.

“Are you all right?” he asked, bending slightly to look at her. His voice rumbled deep in his chest, under her hands. Padmé was suddenly very aware of how close he was. Her heart thudded as her fingers curled in stiff brocade. 

_So many layers tonight,_ she thought suddenly. It would take some work to reach his heat…

Padmé jerked her hands away, as if scorched. 

“Yes. I am. Thank you.”

Palpatine drew away slowly, a small smile tugging at his lips. He walked towards the center of the hologram and pointed to a cluster of stars on the edge of the Core.

“Now, where were we?”

 

*

 

Light years away, Anakin Skywalker gasped. Rex glanced at him curiously.

“Sir?”

“It’s – It’s nothing,” he stammered, blood rushing to his face. “Play it again.” Rex shrugged.

“Whatever you say Sir…” The clone pulled up the holo of the Corellian Run, flooding the conference room with blue light. 

Anakin clenched his jaw, hard, as Rex laid out the attack plan.

The hologram seemed _wrong_ somehow. For one thing, it was far too small. And in the wrong place…Why was it over a _table?_

The image twisted before his eyes. Stars and red tactical lines jumbled up together in snarls of light. The pattern swung violently between Corellia and…

_Is that Naboo? No…_

“…Sir?”

Rex turned toward him, frowning. 

“Are you all right?”

“I –“ Anakin winced as the hologram swooped sickeningly to the right. He pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead, trying to ground himself. Then a low, masculine voice reverberated inside his head.

_…Not the right perspective…_

Anakin’s vision blurred further. The sterile strategy room ran fuzzy and gray, twisted in with shining marble and plush red carpet.

_Do you think the floor projector would be better?_

His fingers dug into the plastisteel table – 

_\--into thick, black brocade – so many layers --_

Anakin jumped to his feet.

“I’m sorry, Rex…Reconvene at 1900?”

The clone nodded slowly.

“Of course, sir. Are you – “

But Anakin was already gone.

 

*

 

The floor dipped under Sidious’ feet. He lurched forward, just barely righting himself before he fell through the shimmering holo of the Rimma Trade Route. Padmé, standing on the edge of the Chommel sector, whirled around with a soft cry. She was at his side in an instant, radiating alarm.

“Palpatine – “ She caught his arm, lending him what support her small -- _delicate, feminine_ \-- form could offer. “What is it?” She wrapped an arm instinctively around his waist.

He could barely feel it through his robes. And yet…He felt _grounded,_ somehow, there in the circle of her arms. He looped an arm around her shoulders, both to steady himself and draw her just a little closer. Nobody knew, after all. It was just them, clinging together in a bright whirl of stars, bound by vows stronger than the darkness and blood and war licking at the edges of the light of their lo –

Sidious nearly shoved her away. Decades of control let him extract himself gently as anger flared in his core, black and terrible, throwing back the alien influence licking at his shields. 

_How DARE he!_

 

*

 

Padmé backed away from Palpatine, stunned. The way he’d held her…

_That’s impossible…_

Wasn’t it?

“…Anakin?” she whispered.

 

*

 

Anakin stumbled into his quarters, thanking the Force that he was, once again, bunking solo. He dropped to his knees as the feeling of Padmé holding him steady swamped his senses.

How he ached for her…

Then anger like he had never known before knocked him flat on his back. Padmé slipped away, replaced by a wall of righteous fury. Countless points of light stabbed at his eyes, played over a figure with the dark at its back. He reached for the Force, cleared the bright flare away.

_Oh…_

The stateroom vanished. Padmé and Palpatine floated, dreamlike, in the vast void of space. The galaxy turned around them.

Anakin shook himself, drawing on his will to quiet his heart.

 _That’s a holo,_ he thought, with some relief. If he squinted, he could distinguish where the images ended and the dark marble began. But the reflection…His wife and his friend did, indeed, appear to be standing among the stars.

“…Anakin?”

Padmé stared at Palpatine, her eyes wide and shocked. 

“I’m here!” Anakin shouted, rushing forward. He jerked to a halt at the edge of the holo. 

Palpatine was _not_ happy. The natural shields he’d sensed earlier had slammed tight around the politician’s mind. 

Shame flooded his heart as Anakin realized what had happened. 

_This isn’t a dream._

Anakin turned to his friend. The light played strangely across Palpatine’s face, the shadows cutting harshly though his grim expression.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. 

_I had no right…_

 

*

 

Sidious swallowed, and kept his eyes carefully on Padmé as Anakin’s presence drew nearer. The Jedi sparked with an almost physical intensity, drawing closer as though he couldn’t help himself. 

This was going to be tricky.

“Anakin?” Padmé said again, a flush blooming on her cheeks.

Sidious was impressed, despite himself. His future Apprentice’s influence was so strong that a near-Force-null like Padmé could feel his presence. 

_But why now?_

Sidious had thought that Anakin’s first…visit was due to the Jedi riding a strange thread in the Force, caught as the lonely soul drifted through the realm of dreams. Anakin had _reached_ for him, for what he truly was, not realizing the significance of his actions. 

Heat curled inside the Sith Master. The Jedi craved the Dark, needed it to hide from the fear in his core. It was an ache, a need that he refused to acknowledge. But anything is possible in dreams. 

Everything is permissible in dreams. 

…But right then, there was no way to be certain. Sith lore regarding such things was patchy at best. Plagueis had found Dreamwalking tiresome, like most Dark sorcery. Unless it suited his purposes, of course. 

Furthermore, all three of them were wide awake.

Sidious was...intrigued.

But he was walking on the knife-edge, now. One slip, and he’d be discovered. And Anakin was nowhere near ready. But it was obvious that Anakin had felt him react. He took a moment to consider damage control. Fortunately, there were many, _many_ beings (humans, especially) who, while not meeting the criteria for the Jedi Temple, still possessed degrees of Force sensitivity. He was aware of several such individuals in the rank and file of the Senate support staff, and of a handful of politicians who unknowingly used their meager talents to influence their compatriots.

His reaction, therefore, was not out of the realm of the ordinary. It did not mark him as a Sith, merely a Sensitive who had just felt _something_ try to get inside his head. 

_Well, nothing ventured…_

“I feel it too,” he whispered. 

Padmé jumped. She stared at him for a long moment, her presence quivering with uncertainty. With hope. Then she reached for him.

Sidious took her hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Headcanon: 'Inappropriate Use of the Force' involves long-distance emotional connection. Especially where 2 or more Force-users are involved.  
> 2\. Sorry about that cliffhanger...It's there for pacing, I swear! xD


End file.
